


you should learn to speak up

by wickedesthonktraband



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 22:22:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18270392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedesthonktraband/pseuds/wickedesthonktraband
Summary: neither of these dummies know how to talk to eachother





	you should learn to speak up

He tips his ashes into the bowl, watching them fall and gather with the rest like nuclear snow after war. Bits and pieces of still burning flakes amongst them. The person who'd been sitting two feet across opposite to himself had his face buried into his hands bathing in deep regret. They could both feel the weight in the air around them.

 

“Gamzee I said I was sorry-jesus christ dude doesn't that count for anything? It's not like I personally delivered you straight into the metaphorical lion pit.”

 

He doesn’t respond because he never does, he just looks ahead twirling the blunt in fore and middle fingers.

 

The bruises on him glow faint purple and green under the rooms light. His arms tell a nasty story that both didn't want to think of. Bringing his hands off his face Karkat looked to that stupid, stupid juggalo and felt a deep hate for himself. Here he went, opening his fucking mouth again and slipping over his own two feet and landing both them right into his own jaw.

 

Its funny, the things you think of when something awful happens. A portion of your brain seems to just grab into the most mundane topics it possibly can. He catches himself wondering if they make sweaters less itchy than the thing he'd been wearing proceeding to beat himself mentally for thinking about something that stupid in the first place. Gamzees sneakers, a light purple and white, squeak against the hard floor he shifts them on changing his position.

 

“Gamzee you can't seriously be trying to pull the bullshit mime antics  _ now.  _ We need to talk about this we can't just pretend nothing happened. I get that I'm the world's biggest asshole ok?  _ Fine  _ I get it. But we still  need to talk even if you hate me right now.” He takes another long drag, doesn't say anything again.

 

The bruises hurt pretty bad, he wonders if the shirt will be too hard to clean later.

 

“Gamzee  _ please talk to me you stupid fuck.”  _ His hand reached into his hair, looking to gamzee and regretting that the gods ever gave him a fucking tongue because all he does is make things worse. Gamzee pulls his greasy black curls out of his paint smeared face hair bobbing as he moved fluidly to look up at him still hunched over for the most part but sitting straighter than before. 

 

The bloods chipped by now, hard and crackling as the shirt folds over on gamzee with each turn he makes. The air is heavy, Karkats eyes sting with anger. Anger for himself, anger with Gamzee, anger that this had to happen and he didn't think to check his text messages and he left that phone on silent-good job Karkat. 

 

Gamzee hesitates, he wants to talk, if for a brief moment he wants to reach out and speak again and cry, he wants to cry so badly about all the hurt that's piled on his body and soul. His free hand rests against the light off blue green couch, feeling the weaved texture on his fingertips. but he can't. There's nothing they can say anymore.

 

When he gets up, he smashes the blunt into the ashtray leaving it behind on the couch. He doesn't look back.

 

Nobody says anything, nothing changes.


End file.
